


The Rains of Moorland House

by HissHex



Series: PeterMartin Week 2020 [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, introspective, its just more handholding, scandalous I know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27507832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HissHex/pseuds/HissHex
Summary: Day 3 of PeterMartin week - Weather & InheritanceAfter going to Moorland house, Martin deals with Peters inheritance. Meanwhile, Peter considers the more esoteric inheritance he has received over the years.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas
Series: PeterMartin Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007181
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	The Rains of Moorland House

When Martin thought of Peter, he thought of fog. A thick choking mist that blinded you, wrapped around you. Peter and the fog left you stranded and alone no matter how many people you surrounded yourself by. Peter was much the same. He would wrap his presence around Martin to keep others away, possessive and protective. He hid Martin away from both those who cared for him and those who would hurt him. Martin thought of pale skies and muted lights, of an ever-present damp chill.

When Peter thought of Martin he thought of rain. A soft pattering of water against windows and roofs. A comfort and a danger. Martin and the rain seemed unimpressive and unnoticeable until they turned on you. Until the rain caused you to slip to your death on cold, slick stone, or it brought a chill that never went away, only brought sickness and weakness.  Peter was fond of Martin but he could not forget what the man did to Elias, he was not as helpless as he pretended. Martin brought the comfort of tea and company but also the harsh sting of passive aggressive anger. Peter thought of dark storm clouds and light reflecting off puddles, of the warmth of being inside as the storm passes overhead. 

It turns out the funeral Peter had dragged Martin too wasn’t just a cousin, it was a cousin with no children or siblings. It was a cousin who had scattered what remained of his estate amongst various family members, including Peter. The captain had little to no interest in dealing with the paperwork and other sundry hassles of the inheritance and had swiftly passed it off to Martin.

Martin considered asking for a pay rise. He wasn’t sure that being Peter’s assistant, his current pay and the promise of saving the world was worth having to deal with the procession of lawyers and Lukas’ that he had to contact to get everything sorted.  
He was currently re-writing an email to some uncle of Peter’s. The man was obnoxious and rude and Martin needed to remove some of his instinctual snark from the email. He didn’t want to get reprimanded by Peter for being rude to one of his family members. Peter may find him funny but he was sure the practically pre-historic man he had been introduced to at the funeral would not find it quite as amusing.

Opening up an email from the Lukas’ lawyer, he saw the amount of money that Peter would be inheriting. It was more than Martin’s yearly salary, actually, wait, no it was more than _two years worth_ of his yearly salary.

He wondered if Peter would notice if he skimmed a little off the top.

Martin sighed. It wasn’t worth the risk, especially when he could buy whatever he liked with Peter’s bank card.

It would be funny though.

He signed off on the email and stretched, having been sat at the desk answering emails (thank god the Lukas’ were not ones for phone calls, he didn’t think he would have the mental strength).

By the time he returned to his office, cup of tea balancing in one hand  as he pushed open the door , Peter had appeared and was lurking in his office, peering at his computer screen.

“Oh hello Martin, just reading Nathaniel’s email. He’s being short with you because he expected Andrew,” Martin was at least 60 percent sure than Andrew was the one who had died, “to give more to Conrad. He didn’t of course because Conrad is insufferable, even by our family’s standards. You let a guy work on a rocket and suddenly he becomes all high and mighty about it.”

Martin sipped his tea patiently as Peter grumbled about various family members and their relative levels of snobbery, which Martin thought was hilariously hypocritical of the man. He glanced out of the window. Rain poured down from the heavens, slamming against the window and leaving the road a shallow river. Peter finally finished his rant with something to do with how he gave more to the Forsaken than any of his family members and they were just jealous and Martin could not help but think he sounded like a moody teenager. 

M artin went to take another sip but Peter had been complaining so long that he had already drunk it and he looked down into his cup in disapproval. Peter caught the look and laughed. 

“Well since I’ve come into some money I guess I’ll be able to treat you to some lunch.” he said as if he didn’t buy Martin lunch at least twice a week. He wrapped an arm around Martin’s shoulder and lead him out of the Institute and to an incredibly overpriced cafe that wasn’t too far away. 

He relaxed in the gentle heat of the cafe, listening to the sounds of the rain as spent a quiet lunch with his boss. 

Peter woke up to fog.

Well he technically always woke up to fog, but this was an external fog that had drifted over from the Thames and was curling at the window of his apartment. 

He felt a little bad for dumping all the stress of dealing with his family onto Martin but if nothing else it would be an excellent way to keep Martin busy and isolated for quite some time. 

As he thought of the, relatively meagre compared to his bank account, inheritance from a family member he had never spoken to for more than 3 minutes at a time, he also thought of other things he had inherited. He had inherited his tall stature from his mother’s side of the family and rest of his pale features he had inherited from his useless father. He had inherited his power, his faith, his name. Everything he owned came from his family, even his beloved ship didn’t actually belong to him. 

He thought of the old house, of the basement, of the  cold embrace of the Lonely. 

Peter watched Martin over the rim of his coffee cup. Even Martin he had inherited from Elias when he took over the Institute, thought Peter liked to think that Martin would never have reached his true potential under Elias’ ever-present stare. 

Martin hadn’t come from money. The only thing he inherited when his mother passed was debt and a few boxes of bad memories. Martin had lied and worked hard to get everything he had, nothing had ever been given to him for the sole reason of blood and genetics. Peter respected that, he wasn’t like certain members of his family who just wasted away in the halls of Moorland House, he  put work into dragging unwilling sacrifices into the Lonely. He had, before he became captain of the Tundra and could hole up in his cabin all day, worked hard on the ships he had been stationed on. He respected the hard work Martin put in  but he  still  thought that Martin deserved to be spoiled. He did everything that Peter could ever ask for and asked for very little in return.  He was handsome and intelligent and Peter still thought of the warmth of Martin’s hand when he had comforted him on the steps of Moorland House. 

He watched as the steam drifted up from Martin’s mug and fogged up his glasses, blocking his bright blue eyes from his sight. 

Peter reached out, his hand wrapping around Martin’s wrist. He looked up sharply. Peter felt a faint flush spread across his cheeks. He picked at his sandwich with his other hand but kept his soft grip on Martin’s wrist. 

He felt Martin’s stare even as he looked down at his sandwich before the other man shook loose his wrist. Peter felt a pang of sorrow and an unfamiliar loneliness at the rejection before he felt Martin turn his hand around, hooking his fingers with Peter’s own. Peter looked up to see a similar flush across Martin’s face as his sipped his tea. 

They sat in silence, enjoying each others company and the sound of the rain and the sight of the world through the fogged up windows. 


End file.
